Reality
by ChaoticDramaQueen
Summary: We live in a world that likes black and white... not grayscale. As a people, we like the comfort of believing in there being a clear line in the sand. We draw comfort from simple answers... but the universe doesn't work quite like that. It's just not reality. Abby-hurt/centric. Warning: rape, non-con, alcohol-impairment related themes. Regarding triggers, please heed the warning!


**A/N: So, this little story is one of those 'fic-as-therapy' type creations. It's a fiction work, but this is a plot that's been spinning around in my head and I felt the need to write into words. Hope you enjoy reading!**

* * *

 **Reality**

It was Halloween.

It was meant to be fun.

It was just a stupid party.

Abby loved Halloween. It had always been her favourite holiday ever since she discovered it as a mere child. There was something freeing about embracing her love of all things Goth on the one day of the year that no-one battered an eye at all the black lace, or even fake blood and fangs. She played around every year; sometimes breaking away from Gothic entirely and going as Princess Peach or Marylyn Monroe.

'Spooky' comes into a rare partnership with all things jovial and fun. Kids laughing in the streets calling, 'trick or treat!' with huge goofy grins and expectant faces. Partners, walking hand in hand, entering parties of cobwebs and loud music dressed in cute couples costumes. Groups of friends entering the same places with bright smiles and high heels.

Abby loved Halloween.

Until this year.

Vodka was her drink of choice, always had been, so she brought her own bottle straight to her best friend's brother's house. She knew most of the girls there but, other than Jessica's brother Brandon, she didn't know the guys. Jess greeted her with a wide grin and it wasn't long before the drinking games started, the music was loud and the house party kicked into full swing.

One girl, Clara, was already well on her way to being drunk and some of the other girls weren't too far behind. Of course, there were the sober few who were feeling the need to be responsible and stick to soft drink. The threat of eight hours at work the next morning enough to keep them from indulging that night.

Abby didn't really fit in there, she had to admit, but Jess made her feel more than welcome.

The drinking games kicked off with 'Most Likely' and on Brandon's 'most likely to solve a crime' all fingers pointed to her and, with much light-hearted grumbling, Abby downed her first few shots.

Speaking of work, the last case had been horrible. She'd been feeling really down and not like herself at all. Her music was dull and even Burt the Hippo couldn't make her smile. She appreciated the extra Gibbs and Co deliveries of _Caf-Pow!_ , but really she just needed a night to relax.

When Cody, the older brother to one of Brandon's friends who was sitting next to her, leaned over, leered at her and said out of nowhere, 'It's not rape if you say surprise.' She told him he was an idiot and listed the reasons why. Honestly, she got a 'hinky' vibe from him but the alcohol was numbing her senses a little. Maybe she was just overthinking it?

When his brother told him to knock it off and he went back to silent leering and drinking, she wrote him off as just messing with her for kicks. Besides, she was in a crowd and she knew and trusted Brandon and Jess. It was fine.

The clocked ticked over from eight to nine and the drinking games continued. From, 'Never Have I Ever' to 'King's Cup', it was laughs and just one drink.

Two drinks.

Eight drinks.

Or nine?

And when two thirds of the bottle was gone she barely noticed any possible threat.

The boys were leaving anyway.

Or.

So she assumed.

And sure, she'd been drinking a LOT in a short amount of time, but she wasn't prepared for the sickness that consumed her just shy of the clock striking ten. She'd really overdone it, in retrospect, and found herself simply so drunk that she'd clearly poisoned herself trying to forget her worries, fit in and just let loose for one night.

Next thing she knows, she's made her way, stumbling blind, to the lawn and suddenly…

She falls.

It's like her legs just give out and then she's throwing up and it feels like abject hell. There's a concerned crowed in an array of hopelessly drunk to stone-cold sober surrounding her prone form and asking…

'Is she okay?'

'Wow, when did she get so wrecked?'

And through the haze there's one of the boys…

Lane, she remembers foggily. Cody's younger brother…

Offering her bread and saying…

'Here, eat this.'

'Stick your fingers down your throat and throw it all up, you'll feel better.'

And if she was sober she would have been mortified, but as the situation stood she just took his advice.

It's all a blur from there.

Two hours go by and she's later told she threw up almost that entire time. She remembers swirling images and fleeting sounds. Then, all of a sudden, Jess says it's midnight and, finally able to stop vomiting miserably, she gathers herself and, near blind, stumbles to change into an old nightdress she'd thrown in her bag and all but falls onto the rubbish foam roll-out lying on the hard floor.

Jess falls into a deep sleep away from the doorway on the other side of the huge make-shift bed while her two friends also sleep the boneless sleep of the drunk on the far couch. Brandon's in his room with his girlfriend. And Luke must be in his own room too…she thinks the other guys left… and that's all she knows. Although apparently Cody's pastimes include drinking and returning to the house at all hours of the night. So who knew really?

She finds herself too out of touch with the world to care.

Then, so drunk it's unbearable, she falls into an unconscious sleep.

* * *

She wakes to pain.

Or…she thinks she does.

Even in the moment she can't really tell dream from reality.

But it hurts it hurts and there's someone behind her on the mattress. Further back, but there. Her underwear pushed to the side and just…

Pain.

It had felt good for a fleeting moment but then the pinpoint of pressure explores too roughly and the painfully uncomfortable feeling takes over until it just hurts inside. She doesn't move, too drunk to respond. She thinks over and over, 'Am I dreaming? Is this a nightmare? Is this real? It feels so real', as the world stays blurred.

Then, while her thoughts have been wondering, he's suddenly gotten closer. The small probing intrusion gone for the moment. She feels his legs against her upper thighs, or at least she thinks she does, as she lays curled in the foetal position which she still can't move out of, feeling as heavy as led. And then, what had been uncomfortable pressure gives way to unbearable pain.

It's too far.

Too deep.

Too much.

And oh hell it hurts it hurts it hurts!

She finds that she doesn't care if she's awake or dreaming because the pain feels all too real and it hurts so much, so deeply, that she somehow summons the strength to move.

She tries to push down and forward, to get away from the intrusive agony, to burry herself in the mattress as it's the only movement she can manage. She's mumbling something...

'Nonononono.'

But maybe that's just in her head.

She's so out of it she can't tell.

She wants it to stop…

Needs it to stop stop STOP!

She vaguely thinks she feels the stilling of what had been a sharp thrust pain, and then the feeling of that solid invasive thing being withdrawn to leave only the sensation of a hollow emptiness.

And then, all too quickly, she falls back into unconsciousness.

* * *

She wakes up and checks the time with unfocused eyes.

3:30am.

Everyone's asleep and the house is quiet.

And something feels…wrong.

She feels uncomfortable…and damp? And what was that dream?

But her undies and on right, even if her nightdress in raised to her stomach and the blanket no longer covers her like it had when she first fell asleep. Must have moved it while she slept… And maybe she just needs to go to the bathroom. Maybe that's why it all feels wrong.

She stumbles her way there in the dark and, thoughts of the nightmare fresh in her mind, checks herself over. More asleep than awake, she ignores the burning pain when she actually uses the facilities. She pretends not to notice the purple and red discolouration, or the swelling, or the feeling of…openness.

There's no blood, which there would have been if it really happened…right?

Right.

She fumbles her way back to bed, pulls up the blankets and passes out again.

* * *

In the morning she wakes, sore all over, restless and feeling like hell.

But it's just a hangover, right?

Right.

Has to be.

And that dream that's coming back to her again?

That feels so real she imagines she can still feel the pain?

Didn't happen, right?

Right.

And when she's thrown up some more, and finally makes her way downstairs, she sits with the other girls and focuses on the here and now…and tries not to spew up on the table.

And when Lane comes down stairs, smirks, and asks,

'You still here?'

She answers, 'Yeah I stayed the night'… but a part of her thinks, 'Was it really a dream? Could he have really done something? Is he just playing dumb now?'

The suspicions fill her mind.

She knows he's the only one other than Brandon that stayed the whole night. But she thinks of his title of being Brandon's best friend since junior school, of the happy four year long relationship he has with his girlfriend, about how he helped when she was so sick last night, the fact that everyone who knows him thinks he's great…and she feels even more confused'.

And when Cody comes home about half an hour later, avoids all eye contact with her, and leave again all in the span of half an hour, she registers and dismisses the fact that the 'hinky' vibe she gets from him is still there.

She pretends she's not at all scared... because overthinking will get her nowhere.

And the fact that he made that one comment last night, that the thought of THAT was on his mind, and the way he leered at her, the known pattern that he often comes home stoned or drunk early hours of the morning and she was unconscious in easy view from the doorway last night….

Well…

She can't prove he came home last night at all, even if she wonders.

And does she figure out, with any degree of certainty, who it could have been if it wasn't a nightmare?

No.

And what does that leave her with?

Nothing.

* * *

It's been three days since Halloween.

It felt like something was wrong….there…still…

So she goes to get checked, just to be sure…and next thing she knows she's taking the morning after pill and having needles and blood test for 'just in case' reasons because apparently it wasn't a dream.

Oh god, it wasn't a dream.

But the novels and movies never showed her the reality.

She was never told that nobody would be there to hold her tight that first week and wrap her up in blankets and help her feel safe while she cried out all the pain.

The reality is needles and nurses.

Humiliating exams.

Uncertain answers of, 'The swelling and bruising suggests that something did take place that night. Exactly what that was and the degree of the assault? I can't say for sure, I'm so sorry. All I can say is that it is very likely that something happened. I can't confirm if it was rape as there was no bleeding, which would usually occur, but not always.'

And how is she meant to deal with that? With maybes, a smidge of a horrific memory, and more questions than answers?

Nobody told her it's four showers a day with no-one coming to check if she's drowned herself yet.

That it's flinching away from unexpected hugs from people she's known for years.

That it's throwing up lunch and taking pain and anti-nausea pills for dinner.

That it's listening to music about sex or watching a sex scene and having flashbacks and dealing with the resulting panic attacks which leave her breathless.

That it's telling her mother figure, Sister Agnes at Nun Bowling, and instead of comforting words, hearing…

'This will teach you not to be unaware of your surroundings.'

'You made yourself an easy target.'

'This was bound to happen because you got so drunk.'

…and it hurts like a slap to the face.

They didn't tell her that maybe she'll believe those admonishments are justified.

They forgot to mention that its showers so hot that her skin burns red or so cold that she freezes.

That it's waking up at five in the morning, after a few hours of restless sleep, to a nightmare that leaves her crying and shaking so badly that she runs back to the scalding shower, desperate to feel clean and warm.

No-one told her the reality.

That all around her…

Life goes on.

* * *

But slowly, she tells the people that hold her trust. One by one.

Sister Agnes changes her tone a week later, says that what happened to her wasn't her fault, tells her that she didn't mean it like that. And, because she loves Sister Agnes like a mother, Abby chooses to welcome the newfound comfort…even though she won't forget the initial rejection.

Sister Eloise, a Nun the same age as her whom she loves as a best friend, sleeps over once she returns from her trip away. When Abby wakes up crying from nightmares, whimpering in her sleep that 'it hurts' at all hours of the night as she relives the pain, Sister Eloise holds her tight and whispers comforts as she sobs brokenly. She's needed this for what seems like an eternity of terror-filled nights and had thought it would never come; she's grateful to have been wrong. It was worth the wait. For the nights she's not there, the sister composes a playlist of classical music that sometimes succeeds in easing the nightmares. For the days, she makes another playlist of songs for Abby that she can listen to without having to face flashbacks.

Ellie comes around and paints her nails to make her smile. Days later, when Abby has a panic attack at a work party because there are too many people and loud party music and alcohol and she can't handle it because it's all too much, too soon, too familiar…. Ellie guides her back to the safety of her lab and holds her while she shakes and cries.

She won't let them physically close yet, it's still too soon, but that doesn't stop the men in her life from finding ways to show they care while they wait for her to give the 'okay' before returning to 'Abby-hugs' being the norm. They give her space and time…and much needed love.

Tony texts her lame jokes he thinks are funny to make her laugh despite herself.

McGee watches old horror movies with her, even though he hates them.

Palmer brings junk food over in the truckloads.

Ducky answers the late-night phone calls with sound advice and reassuring words.

Gibbs, with her permission as the exception to the no-contact rule, hugs her as only a father can. And, if she flinches despite herself, he doesn't comment. He just holds her for as long as she can stand a male touch of any kind right now, and then gently let's go. But, he's never too far away.

Piece by piece they help her put herself back together again as only she can.

It's a slow and painful reality, but true friends are family, and Abby knows she's not alone.

And day by hellish day.

She heals.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you for reading! Reviews are love xx**


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